Fantasy Hunter's Moon: Ascendancy [IC] [CLOSED]

[K0mori]

Sebastian waited until everyone else had gone away, aside from Azathor, who lingered at the inn after everyone had tied up their horses. Perhaps he was serious about getting some rest at the inn. Sebastian no longer viewed him with suspicion, but had no desire to keep a demon in close company, no matter how useful such a friendship might be. He walked over to him when he was certain the others were out of earshot, and told him, "I'm going to find someplace with cheap goods. I'll return within the hour." His tone made it clear that he was not inviting Azathor to join him.

Once alone, he wandered the cobbled streets absentmindedly, doing his best to ignore the eyes that were on him a bit too long for his liking. It didn't take long before he found what he was looking for- a very rundown secondhand store stuffed into the narrow space between two larger buildings, with a name in the dusty window which suggested Tsavanian ownership. He pushed through the creaking door into the claustrophobic interior, packed in every direction with items which had been donated or traded-in over the years to establish the world's most worthless collector's hoard.

"Ah, welcome, sir!" an old voice called out from the back. It trembled as if shaking off the dust it had gathered from spending its life in this shack. Sebastian immediately recognized the Tsavanian accent the owner was probably trying to hide as he shimmied his way through his piles of junk. "Can I help you find anything? Anything at all, really..." he said, gesturing cartoonishly at it all.

"Are you Ludmil Kuzmin?" Sebastian replied, speaking the name in the window exactly as he knew it was meant to be spoken.

The old man practically jumped an inch off the ground when he heard Sebastian's accent and noticed his stained uniform. "Oh, er... Yes, that's me," he said, his accent coming on more thickly now as he scratched the bristly gray hair on his chin. "My family has owned a shop in this town for generations, since well before the Atracans took over. But I came here only ten years ago after my brother passed away. The window used to say "Onisim Kuzmin - Resale." He coughed a bit nervously. "So, you are...?"

"Sebastian Ackermann. I'm a private, second-class in the Daristinian Army, but you could say that my service is on hold for now," he explained flatly. He felt the old man's eyes trace his outline and take stock of the gear he was still wearing and the weapons he carried, as he wasn't comfortable leaving them bundled and tied to his horse. "Adona summoned me and a number of others to serve a purpose on this island, although it is purely a mystery why each of us was chosen."

The man's eyes lit up. "Is that so? I've got to say, every time a group of strangers comes through this town, something bad happens. I've seen it before, and Onisim used to send me letters. People around here tend not to like strangers, especially foreign ones. I get a pass because of my family's history here; they treat me like I belong. I have to ask, you coming here- is it an omen?"

Sebastian shrugged. "Probably."

"Bad things are happening all over the world, it feels like the end of days," the old man lamented, taking off his glasses and polishing them with a small rag before stepping behind the shop counter at the front of the store and picking up a small bag of chewing tobacco. Placing a pinch into his cheek, he rested both hands on the counter and looked at the street outside his window. "Hardly anyone comes in here..." he sighed.

Sebastian looked over the clothing and began assembling a kit for himself in silence. "You need money, grandpa?"

"Always," mused the old man without taking his eyes off the window. "But I don't make it in clothes. It's furniture that keeps me off the street."

"Furniture?"

"Da, a table here, a chest of drawers there... it adds up." He finally looked back to Sebastian just as the latter approached the counter with an armful of clothing pieces. Without bothering to count, he threw out a trivial number, which was made a laughing matter when Sebastian admitted that he had no money to give. "Well, what do you have to trade, then?"

Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out a pin denoting his regiment in the Daristinian Army, and tried to offer it.

Ludmil shook his head. "No, no... I couldn't accept that,"

"Please, I'm not going to be a soldier anymore. I don't want it," Sebastian insisted.

The old man shook his head again and pushed Sebastian's outstretched hand back at him. "I've met soldiers before, you know. Atracans- they've seen some things, too, that they'd rather forget. I don't make a habit of buying those bad memories off of them, because they just float out the door and attach themselves to whatever musor I sell them. But down the line, when they've gotten old like me, what will they have to show for their youth, eh? Some curtains? Some cookware? Eh..."

Sebastian looked at the insignia in his palm, again frustrating himself with the thought of what might happen to the world if the young men and women he served with didn't wake up to what they were wasting their energy on. "It's not what I saw; it's what I didn't see," he said quietly.

"It's not your fault, either way," Ludmil replied. "You thought you were doing the right thing, didn't you? Isn't that all we can ask of anyone?"

A moment passed as the thought sank in. Sebastian nodded and gently put the pin back into his pocket. The two talked a while longer while he stood at the counter before he departed for the inn, having only traded in the books he had finished reading on his way to town.

 

[Infab]

Cassandra watched as a series of small fireballs darted through the sky like meteors, originating from Xiaòzhou, which moved directly for several of the zombies wandering around the field around the tower. And one by one, the fireballs connected with their targets. Knocking all the zombies to the ground, and setting them ablaze as they laid in the dirt. An effective means of dispatching them, it seemed. He had thinned them out rather well, so it wouldn't be difficult for the rest of them to dispatch the rest.

Cassandra soon dismounted her horse, leaving him standing next to the remains of an old stone fence, before drawing her sword. "Let's get the rest of them, then I'll lead us in." she said, glancing back to the others before moving across the field for one of the zombies still standing.

As those with Cassandra made their move, taking out the zombies one by one, Xiaòzhou continued his scouting above. Ignoring the undead below, this was a surprisingly serene locale. No signs of civilization nearby, beyond the lights to the west from Grimsby. It made sense that Cassandra and her group had made this their hideaway during their stop here. Nothing around to disturb them.

Eventually, Cassandra would call up to him from below. And glancing down, he'd notice all the zombies had soon been dispatched. She pointed to the tower afterwards. His landing spot, the roof. He could make his way down from there, and eliminate any hostiles that may have taken up residence inside.

Cassandra watched as Xiaòzhou moved across the sky, towards the tower, before looking to the others. "There's a large doorway at the base of the tower on the south side facing us. We can head down into the lower levels underground through a trap door on the ground floor." she soon said, looking to Royland. "Shouldn't be hard to find the grimoire from there."

"Though sometimes, being the subject of such confused staring is beneficial. After all, those who are stunned by my appearance I typically know not to concern myself with. Those who react with fear or slink off into the shadows upon spotting me? That may narrow things down during a hunt, non?"

Rebecca nodded. "True." she said softly, before glancing to Rajko when he spoke.

"An interesting, if unintended benefit to attire." Said Rajko softly. "Although, I suppose it could also work against you. Say placing a rifleman on the rooftop and tell him or the demon, in our case, to shoot the stranger with the strange outfit." He adjusted the hat that came with his inquisitorial garb. "Well, we don't stand apart at least amongst ourselves. I expected that more when I was briefed."

"Also true. Such as with Claire back at the lumber mill." responded Rebecca. As Rajko spoke of Claire afterwards, Rebecca glanced back behind them before shaking her head. "I trust her. She hasn't given us reason not to, plus she did say she had enforcer related business to attend to here. Somewhere."

The Saint then looked back to Camille. "As I told Sebastian when we spoke alone, I never intended to become a knight or a paladin. Or a Saint." she said, "I wanted to help defend my family, so I took up arms against the demons that were plaguing our land. I just happened to do it in a time of upheaval, when heroes and heroines were needed."

As they continued walking, they eventually emerged into the town square. There were far less people wandering about than before, as it was evening rapidly approaching true night. A few were still about, moving here and there. Most heading home or to the taverns or shops that were still open this late. The constabulary was in sight, however, so the trio wouldn't have much farther to go.

"Lord Turbert Wythinghall, a duke whom I had the privilege of serving during my early years, granted me knighthood. I had saved his son during an incursion of demons into his lordship's pastures. The demons had been seeking the cows and other farm animals for food, and the duke's son Richard had amassed some knights and footsoldiers to combat the threat. I was one of the footsoldiers, alongside my future husband. Richard was attacked and knocked off his horse by a wrath demon, and I managed to save him by skewering the wretch with a spear." she continued. "Lord Wythinghall heard of what I did, and had me knighted on the spot. I served dutifully alongside his son Richard and the other knights under his command...until I encountered knights from Velin's Order during a trip with Lord Wythinghall to Braumwich."

She sighed. "Zealots in practically every sense of the word. They lacked compassion. They lacked a true sense of honor and justice, clinging to their own twisted versions. But I guess that's only natural, given whom they served." she said softly, "Their silver tongues whispered sweetened words. Claimed they were out to end the Demon King's reign in the mortal realm once and for all. And in a way, they were. However, it was far from the right way."

"I became a Paladin in their service, because of my prowess in battle. But beyond that, I was hated by those I served alongside. I slew what needed slaying, and I spared everyone and everything else. I wasn't going to cut down vampires, werebeasts, and other supernatural beings just because they were supernatural. Only the truly irredeemable were to taste my blade." she continued. "Velin despised it, obviously. The nights in which I dreamed of her, she talked down to me. Called me weak, a disgrace, and a variety of other things. Unfit to be in her service. But instead of casting me out, like she wanted them to, my superiors kept me around. I was too useful to toss aside."

"Eventually, I left at my own volition. I had enough of the vitriol. The mindless killing and other vile acts in Velin's name. I wanted something different. Something virtuous, and honorable. So, when I heard of the Divine Church, I and a few other outcasts from Velin's Order decided to join them. And we soon founded the Vigilant Order as part of the Church. Velin was not our patron goddess, as the Order claims she was these days. We didn't really have one, choosing to worship either of the Divine Five as we wished."

"We hunted what needed to be hunted. We slew what needed to be slain. We protected those that needed protection, and assisted those that needed assistance. We accepted all that wished to join our cause, teaching them our ways and methods. And eventually, the time came in which we were needed for something... more." she finished, gently reaching up and touching the mark at the center of her chest plate. The ancient emblem of the Vigilant Order. "...But that's a story for another time. I believe we have arrived."

They had reached the constabulary, a two story building which took up most of two blocks. Rather wide, really. A few constables were wandering about outside. Some acting as guards for the building while others were minding their own business. One was even attaching posters to a notice board. They appeared to be wanted posters, but for regular criminals. Rather nice rewards were listed at the bottom, along with a list of crimes that the pictured individuals were guilty of.

Eventually one of the constables noticed the trio. "Evening, ladies and gent." he said, his accent notably Northern Atracan. Mainland. "Need something?"

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou continued his scouting after his initial dispatching of zombies, fire working as effective as it had the last time he had used it on the undead, thinning them out for the others. The tower's isolated location, yet proximity to Grimsby really made it clear why it has served as a hideout; and the area itself was quite pleasant to boot.

Soon enough, he heard Cassandra calling to him after things quieted down on the ground. They had arrived, and from her motions it was clear she was suggesting he land on the roof. A smart move, in his opinion, as he could sense more undead littered within, similar to those they had dealt with outside. Would be good for the others to not get distracted by them.

He landed on the roof, and considered his options. He could continue dispatching the undead using fire, but what if Cassandra recalls something that's upstairs, only to discover he had accidentally burnt whatever it was? Even if unlikely, the hermit did not want to risk it, so he pulled out his staff instead and charged it with ki - hopefully, he could set the undead's po spirit free through the act of purifying bashes. He kicked a wall near the roof entrance to make noise, divert attention towards himself.

 

[Breadman]

Royland followed close to Cassandra as she led them towards the tower. In the sky their ally would rain down fire on the corpses and thin out what remained of the horde that terrorized this area just a few years before. He dismounted, rather the steed melted into the magic that brought it from the nether, leaving him standing on his feet planted in the ground. The sight of the undead infuriated him as he saw them. Blasted curs, defying life and death to bring forth minions for their bidding. Every single necromancer deserved to be put to the sword and so it shall be.

The knight gripped the sword's handle as he got to work. Cutting, slashing and puncturing his way through the zombies that stood in his path. The smell of rot filled the air as the collagenated blood sprayed on his armor along with the puss and assortment of other fluids that marked the narcomancer's path. In truth, the wraith didn't hate the zombies. To him they're victims of a twisted puppetmaster. The only solace he could take was that the one that brought these people from their rest was long dead along with her sister.

There's a large doorway at the base of the tower on the south side facing us. We can head down into the lower levels underground through a trap door on the ground floor. Shouldn't be hard to find the grimoire from there.

"Right." He exhaled a 'sight' as he prepared to open the gates to the tower "Mind if I take point from here, Lady Cassandra? We'll be in close quarters and the dead will have a harder time biting and clawing through me."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko nodded to Rebecca. If the Saint trusted Claire, then Rajko's trust will not be far behind. Though a part of him, the part that men and women deny to their graves, did not brim with confidence. That part erred too heavily on the side of caution, recalling Sebastian's pedestrian nerves and Cassandra's vacant stare back in that burnt place, of which Rajko is preternaturally suspicious of. There are more idiosyncrasies that Rajko could point out now, but had stopped himself. As Rebecca turned to Camille, Rajko paused in his steps for a moment. It caught him off-guard, but the Saint recalling. He honed all attention now.

So focused that he didn't even notice that they were entering the town square, rapidly approaching the constabulary.

As Rajko heard the Saint's story. Taking in all the abbreviated, yet still fulfilling details. The knighting by the hands of Lord Wythinghall for rescuing his son, her involvement with the sordid knights of Velin's Order, and eventual departure then formation of the Vigilant Order. An Order that he now served. All of it, to say the least, inspired him to look back on his own life. The decisions he took, the acts he did, and the thoughts that he had which lead him to the here and now. It also burned. A fire of shame for the thoughts that he had moments ago. He asked himself: is it unfair to question his comrades at arms for things beyond their control? There was no easy answer that Rajko could conjure.

He tucked the gaiter closer to his nose, then sighed.

With mere footsteps away from the constabulary, Rajko took note of the surroundings. His eyes were immediately drawn to the notice board, rewards for the apprehension of criminals was one favourite pastime of the former hunter. It is a refreshing task in that it provided a sobering experience and kept Rajko sharp more than dodging a blow from a ghoul or werewolf.

One of the constables noticed them. He noted the man's accent, hailing from the mainland from the North.

"Yes, if you'll have us inside. The matter concerns a certain mystical item in the Constabulary's possession."

He did not outright wish to state that this was about the Necromancer's tome or hint at it.

 

[Dmaster]

Rajko's suspicion of Claire was warranted, though Camille was an experienced enough hunter to know not to get wrapped up in the affairs of a vampire enforcer. Knowing that she may not be the most popular person among the vampiric houses as is, she saw no reason to paint an even larger target on her back for a faction that is an echelon all its own. So long as they weren't planning to cleave a rift through Escaria any time soon, the less the huntress knew the better.

Rebecca's recollection of her journey to becoming a saint saw Camille softening her neutral expression somewhat. Though she practically despised the gods she would have to be a fool to believe that their mission's leader was given her anointed status and powers for the wrong reasons. Still, it was all too like them to erect orders and elect agents to carry out their whims and wills, and given their responsibility for the childish scavenger hunt the group was undergoing Camille could likely never stop being bitter about the divine.

"My husband was a member of Velin's order, and from what he told me the sentiments are about the same as they were when you served beneath her banner. Though he was not one to participate in the purges, he kept his focus on putting a stop to demonic incursions," she eventually stated. "There was a time that I believed as they did, saw vampires and the supernatural as plagued filth that needed complete eradication... If I wasn't so stubborn I might have joined them as an inquisitor years and years ago," Camille muses before shaking her head. "In time my ignorance was laid bare, and I found myself saved by someone my prejudice would have had me despise."

Being here, it only made sense for her to draw on the events of Grimtham. On Aleister pulling her from death's door and keeping her human when he only owed her the hatred she had given him, and Mariette making the choice to go quietly in the morning light. These days, Camille was uncertain if either choice was the right one, knowing where they led both themselves and her.

"After that... I cannot fix my blades on a vampire and see someone that has always been a monster. In some ways I still see it as an affliction, a curse. Yet it would seem that it can only drive one as mad as they allow it to. If they've been truly lost, I have no choice but to put an end to them before they cause harm to the innocent. I can grant them peace," she concludes after a brief pause.

Once facing the constable, she crosses her arms across her chest and offers him a nod after Rajko speaks. "Indeed, we are agents of the Church. As it turns out there may be a few loose ends that linger from a supernatural incident that once took palce here."

 

[Infab]

"Mind if I take point from here, Lady Cassandra? We'll be in close quarters and the dead will have a harder time biting and clawing through me."

Cassandra chuckled. "After you, sir knight." she soon said, giving him a sort of curtsy as she waved a hand towards the tower. Thanks to her immense speed and power, she could simply dart through the zombies, simply shrugging off any hungry attackers, but it was probably best to let the knight lead the way. Especially if anything else was prowling down below in the tower's subterranean levels. They approached the tower, soon finding themselves at its base near the large double doors that lead into its first floor.

It was a strange feeling being back here, especially after the events of inquiry years prior. She looked about as they entered through the doorway, Royland shoving the doors open and keeping his sword ready. Crumbling stone, dusty and rotten furniture. Cobwebs marking corners and doorways, and the staircase leading up to the upper floors. She noticed that some of Rayne Devonshire's things were still here. Now forgotten, covered in a film of dust. Books, a satchel, a robe, some other clothes, even her dagger. The grimoire wouldn't be here, however.

"The trapdoor should be in the back corner over there, in that archway behind the staircase." said Cassandra, pointing towards the back of the tower nearby. A stone archway was carved into the side of the staircase, resembling more of a small doorless closet than anything. "Mind the ladder. The fourth step down is gone."

Above them, on the upper floors, they could hear Xiaòzhou making his way down. Groans from zombies before a sharp whack followed. Then a thud as the zombies collapsed. "Seems like he's having fun." remarked Cassandra. And soon enough, they would spot Xiaòzhou's legs as he moved down the stairs towards them. He had killed about six zombies on the way down.

Cassandra waved to him, before motioning for him to follow. "Hope one of you brought a light, because it's dark down there." she soon said, as they approached the trapdoor.

​

"Yes, if you'll have us inside. The matter concerns a certain mystical item in the Constabulary's possession."

"Indeed, we are agents of the Church. As it turns out there may be a few loose ends that linger from a supernatural incident that once took place here."

The constable nodded, glancing down to the cobblestone for a moment. "Yeah, the inquiry a few years back. Figured someone would come by eventually, but didn't think it'd be in the middle of a war." he soon said, before looking back up to the trio. "Hope the thing's still here. Always got a weird feelin' when I looked at it. Like you could just...feel the evil seepin' from it."

He motioned a thumb towards the front entrance of the constabulary. "Head on in. Ask for Lieutenant Hawthorne. He'll show you to it if you tell 'em why you're here." he soon said. "Also, don't mind some of the others 'round here. Everyone's still a bit skiddish after what happened. Every time someone new shows up around here, people assume the worst."

Rebecca nodded, simply glancing to Camille and Rajko before moving towards the building's entrance. The doors were already open, a brick holding the doors open at the base. It was surprisingly clean and well lit, with light beige colored walls and dark wood furniture. A pair of constables were working the front desk, one of them seeming to be a higher rank but wasn't the Lieutenant they were looking for.

Rebecca spoke up as soon as she reached the desk. "Good evening." she started, "My name is Witlocke, and these are my associates. We're here to see a Lieutenant Hawthorne about a certain item that was left behind in the wake of the supernatural incident here a few years ago. A book, specifically a grimoire of dark design and purpose."

The higher ranking individual looked up, scratching his jaw as he stopped with the paperwork which was laying on the desk before him. He set his pen down, and turned about. Facing back towards the rear of the large constabulary building. A hand moved to his mouth.

"HAWTHORNE! YE GOT SUM VISITORS FROM THA BLEEDIN' CHURCH! INQUISITOR TYPES!"

The constable's rough voice carried through the building. Likely even outside a fair distance. The man had quite a powerful voice, apparently. Rebecca smiled slightly, as he reminded her of the man back in Eternis whom had been helping to train some of the new recruits of the Order. Though his accent wasn't as thick as this constable's.

It wasn't long before the group heard the clacking of boots against tile. Rapid, as if the owner was jogging, before slowing down to a normal walking speed. Then, out of the corner of their eyes, a man in a darker blue uniform appeared. He was rather tall, around six feet and eight inches, and wore a pair of thick circular glasses. He seemed well groomed, sporting short red hair parted down one side from front to back. A patch of thin red beard stubble marked the center of his lower lip just above his chin.

"Lieutenant Gregory Hawthorne, at your service." he stated, as he soon stepped up to where the trio were standing. "You're with the Church? Is this part of another inquiry?"

Rebecca shook her head. "No, Mr. Hawthorne. We're simply here to recover an item that was left here a few years ago. Left over from the supernatural incident here in Grimsby involving a necromancer and a dullahan."

Hawthorne looked a bit surprised by her statements, rubbing the back of his neck. "My, I didn't think anyone would ever come for that horrid book but uh... apparently you did." he said, almost starting to stammer. "There's a...uhm...a bit of a problem, you see."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "Problem, constable?" she asked, folding her arms. "And what might be the problem?"

Hawthorne flashed a nervous smile. "You see, since no one came for the book for so long...and my fellow constables here starting to worry about being around it for so long...we, uhm, gave the book to the local library for safe keeping."

Rebecca's eyes widened. "The...The library?" she asked, almost dumbstruck by his explanation.


Often half a decade or so would pass for Claire in regards to visiting the Purple Rose. It was a good spot to rest your feet, get a nice drink, and enjoy some of the local music. It was also a good place to pick up some gossip floating around vampiric society, among others. Normally, the gossip was the more important part of the trips for Claire, and it'd be the very reason she was there now.

But another rather special reason had been given to her lately. She had discovered that the Purple Rose had become sort of a favored locale for some of the outcasts of vampire society. Specifically members of the House of Konstantinov.

As Claire moved through the dimly lit bar, greeting some of the patrons with simple silent nods as she approached the bar. But she wasn't able to say much of anything to the bartender on the other side of the counter. A voice, from a small corner booth across the room, would draw her attention. And they did it in probably the worst way for her.

"My my, if it isn't Claire McLachlan! The majestic Enforcer of the Sanguine Laws! What brings you out here to Grimsby, dear constable?" they said. Male, a bit on the young side. His voice smooth, like velvet, but still maintaining a ever so slight hint of a Tsavanian accent.

Lucas Konstantinov, one of the three heads of the House of Konstantinov. And the youngest of the three. He served often as its face, appearing to do business deals when needed or to settle disputes. He also served as its voice, when the trio of brothers which served as the House head decided collectively on something.

Normally, the head of a vampire house would often be in some well defended location. The Karnsteins and Ruthvens had their large castles in the Daristeinian Highlands. The House of Lovelace had its mansion. The Morgans had their riverboat. All of the Great Houses, old or new, had stationary locations where they could be found. Often in large numbers.

House Konstantinov didn't have such a place. They were wanderers by nature, their history consisting of their clan roaming the continent. Never staying in one place too long. Nomads, vagabonds, the list of what they had been called over the years was long and varied.

And it seemed that some of the Konstantinovs were here on Grimtham Isle now. And Lucas was one of them. The long haired, well-dressed man waved Claire over his blue eyes gleaming in the light of a pair of nearby oil lamps. Claire cut him a look, her own red eyes brightly shining through the dark without the aid of oil lamps or candles. She didn't move, choosing to simply look back to the bartender. Whom was no longer there. Where did he go?

She looked about, and soon found herself looking Lucas Konstantinov in the face. He had somehow slipped right up next to her, reminding Claire of the immense speed that Cassandra possessed. "You know, its rude to brush someone off like that." he said, with a grin.


The inside of the inn was honestly rather quaint. Clean rooms, beds covered in comfortable looking white sheets. Light blue curtains hung over the windows, closed at the moment as it was practically night now. A table sat nearby to allow for some reading or writing on parchment, and a thick metal tub sat in the corner to allow for baithing. They seemed to not have indoor plumbing here, but that was still growing in commonality really. There were still some places that one would have to have water brought to them to bathe. Though it was entirely up to Azathor if he intended to go through that trouble.

As Sebastian returned from his trip to get clothes, he took note of a trio of horses that had been hitched across from their own, all black in color. Rather beautiful creatures, seemingly well groomed and taken care of. The saddles on each were made of fine leather, tinted a dark shade of brown. The satchels hanging on the sides were filled with miscellaneous accessories and gear, but the notable features on the saddle were the rifle holsters.

In them, polished and ready to be used, were Daristeinian bolt-action rifles. Mausers, just like his.

As he looked upon the horses, a voice caught his attention. "Hallo!" said the voice, coming from an individual approaching from the doorway to the inn. It was a man, dressed in what appeared mostly black. Leather armor, seemingly custom tailored. It seemed quite fancy, given the embellishments in the cloth and the cloak hanging off one shoulder. On their head, a wide brimmed hat adorned with a lovely red rose.

"I didn't expect to see someone from Daristein out here. Especially dressed in a such a uniform as yours!" he said. His accent was quite clearly Tsavanian. Sebastian would soon notice a woman following close behind him, dressed in a far more colorful but slightly revealing outfit. She reminded Sebastian of a street performer. Those that one would normally see dancing for money in some random city somewhere on the mainland, or as part of a larger troupe at a festival. The woman noticed him and smiled, giving him a wave as she passed both the man in black as well as Sebastian on the way to one of the horses.

Sebastian also, rather clearly, saw that both of them were vampires thanks to their obvious red eyes.

 

[Dmaster]

She took a deep breath upon entering the constables' office, shutting her eyes as she breathed in the warmer air of the interior. The loud shout from the man at the desk prompted her to open her eyes once more, though she did not seem all that bothered by the outburst. Camille kept a neutral expression as the lieutenant came to greet them, eyeing the man's uniform and providing him a nod of her head in greeting.

When he asked if their business was in relation to another inquiry, she found herself wishing that the matter of their mission would actually be that simple. Rebecca had a handle on moving things along, though the complication he alluded to got her to raise a brow as her hands came to her hips. The benefit of the doubt stopped her from scolding the man, yet when he told the three of them where the grimoire should have been she shared Rebecca's dumbstruck reaction.

"You thought the best place for a grimoire owned by a witch containing necromantic spells that practically razed your town would be best kept in your local, public library?!" Camille hissed, a hand reaching up to massage her temples as she looked to the ground. "Mes dieux... Please tell me that they are actually treating it like the dangerous object it is at the very least. It's not something that a local scholar decided to check out and put on their shelf, is it? ... Is it?"

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou had made quick work of the zombies that had remained in the upper floors, and soon enough found himself with the others. He returned Cassandra's wave, as he joined the group once more. With the question of light raised, the hermit looked over to his counterpart in Royland, gesturing to him whether or not he had a light, and if not, whether he should make a light instead.

 

[Breadman]

Royland looked above as Xiaózhou made his way in, clearing more of the undead. Good, it would save them time and effort from searching for stragglers.

Hope one of you brought a light, because it's dark down there.

"Allow me." Royland only needed one hand for the sword, leaving the other free for the chains he used. But for these undead, it wasn't needed. Their ally from far away didn't seem to have a source of light on hand, so he prepared a solution. HIs hand was engulfed in flames after he reached out into the air with it. The fire having no effect on him as he was the source. The knight held it up as a torch to light the way. "Shall we proceed?"

 

[K0mori]

Having just spent a half hour or so conversing with a Tsavanian immigrant after such a long period of isolation, Sebastian was surprised to encounter the same accent on the lips of another stranger in such short order. His hopeful curiosity, however, turned sour when he realized that they were vampires and, presuming that the horses here belonged to them, that they were strangely well-armed.

"Hallo! I didn't expect to see someone from Daristein out here. Especially dressed in such a uniform as yours!"

He came to an immediate halt. "Are you sure?" he answered accusingly. "I don't believe much in coincidences at the moment, but if you really don't know who I am or why I'd have reason to assume ill of you, entschuldigung." He resisted the urge to reach for his luger, which was already loaded with silver bullets due to traveling with Cassandra. He had to remind himself that not all vampires needed to be feared. "...No actually, I apologize; that was rude. You all have just found me at a poor time," he said, finally willing himself to approach the inn and the mysterious strangers.

"My name is Sebastian," he said. "I'm here on church business, and I'd rather not explain what that means."

---

The Hoarding Towers
​

On the far eastern side of the besieged metropolis, a dozen elite mages led by Mariette and Neroph dropped through the air toward the steps of the sculpted, granite-clad pillars known as the Hoarding Towers, where they were met by hundreds of their confused opposition making a desperate defense. It was abundantly clear that whatever Knasus had planned was already beginning to unravel, and yet the defenders carried on with wild-eyed abandon, even as their comrades and neighbors were torn apart by all manner of dark hexes and elemental magics. Their commanders were easy to identify by their elaborate arms and armors, as well as their grim countenance. They seemed to know something that their hoard did not.

The action was swift and brutal. One particularly hulking demon officer swung a halberd and caught the neck of one of Mariette's favorite apprentices. With an enchanted swing of his sword, Neroph sliced open the guts of five enemies without making contact with any of them. An enemy with a chain whip cracked his weapon with enough force that it killed both one of Mariette's mages as well as one of Erebos' defenders with a single swing, and cracked the granite tile below as well. But despite losing two of their entourage, Tariun's two lieutenants cut a swath through the opposition right up to the tower doors, bordered on both sides by smoldering bodies and violet hellfire.

Neroph placed his hand up to the doors. "...They're magically sealed. You know about these sorts of things," he said, "do you think you can-"

Having already sensed that the spell holding the doors was quite weak, Mariette simply raised her off hand and cocked her head to the side, shattering the seal and throwing the doors open with a loud bang. The closest enemies briefly paused to look back at the now-open doorway, with the officers seemingly flying into a panic to get away. "The seal was barely strong enough to hold their own out..." Mariette muttered as she stepped into the tower's dark interior, effortlessly flaying an opponent with a single swipe of her saber when he tried to get the jump on her. When Neroph joined her, the few ill-equipped foes who still occupied its interior broke into a panic as well.

It began to dawn on them that the towers were missing their famed treasure hoards, as if they had been emptied out completely on the eve of battle. But why? They had no ability to smuggle it out of the city with the grand army surrounding it, unless they had painstakingly carried it all through portals to some other locale. Neroph sighed. "I've been in these rooms before, and they've never felt so incriminating as they do right now."

"Incriminating?" Mariette repeated.

Neroph nodded. "Greed is an affliction of the senses. You don't realize how much you have, or what lengths you are going to in order to keep it. You begin to convince yourself that nothing is amiss, and that it would be normal to wish for more, just the same as someone less fortunate. A pile of treasures and gold on its own can dazzle, but place it in a well-kept mansion, tastefully displayed" he emphasized with a malicious sarcasm as he motioned at the empty shelves and displays within the tower, "and it only seems fitting. Yet empty those same halls of all decoration and you realize how absurd the structure really is, its entire existence owing to give place to things which ought to be enjoyed by everyone."

Mariette slowly nodded as Neroph rambled on. "Mon ami, you sound like a philosopher," she replied sarcastically.

"My sin ever fascinates me, dear," he countered, smoothly. "Nothing entertains me so much as embracing it even as it defiles me. But, setting that thought aside for a moment, if there is anything remaining here that's worth our time, it will probably be in the grand chamber ahead- it's larger than all the other rooms."

They pushed open another door, meeting no resistance, to find a massive arcane structure with thick stone walls covered in glyphs. There seemed to be an eerie red light pulsating from within which gave Neroph pause. Mariette, meanwhile, grimly set about translating the script on the stone structure. "Oh la la," she blurted out, dumbfounded at what she had read.

"Allow me to suppose that this is the device meant to spell our doom?" Neroph joked. His smirk evaporated when he saw the look on Mariette's face.

 

[Infab]

"You thought the best place for a grimoire owned by a witch containing necromantic spells that practically razed your town would be best kept in your local, public library?!" Camille hissed, a hand reaching up to massage her temples as she looked to the ground. "Mes dieux... Please tell me that they are actually treating it like the dangerous object it is at the very least. It's not something that a local scholar decided to check out and put on their shelf, is it? ... Is it?"

The Lieutenant rubbed his neck. "M-Ma'am, I don't know what the library did with it. They said they'd stick it in their private collection, so I assume that's as safe as it gets there." he responded, still a nervous look on his face. "People can still check books out of the private collection, if I remember correctly, but you have to be of relatively high standing or have considerable influence. Delicate tomes and pages, needing to be treated with extra care, or dangerous texts that shouldn't be released to the public as one of the librarians put it."

Rebecca, surprisingly calm, simply nodded. "Then I believe we need to make a trip to the library. Could you point us in its direction?" she asked, glancing to Camille and smiling.

Hawthorne pointed towards the entrance. "Head over to Brooks Street. You can reach it by taking the road left when you head out of the station. Take the second right. The library is on the left side of the street, in the middle. You can't miss it, as there's sign hanging outside with a stack of books on it. There should be someone still there, as it doesn't close up till late in the evening."

"Thank you, constable. I hope you have a good evening." replied Rebecca, after taking in the directions. She then looked to Camille and Rajko, still smiling. "Shall we proceed?"

Afterward, she strolled past the pair, heading back out the entrance of the constabulary. And as they followed her, the trio proceeded in the needed directions. More people still out late, wandering up and down the sidewalks. Heading home or elsewhere. As they turned onto Brooks Street, they spotted the large square sign hanging above the entrance to the library. The library itself was sandwiched between what appeared to be one of the local carpenters' shops and a store belonging to a watchmaker.

"Watches fascinate me, honestly." said Rebecca, as they noticed the sign for the shop. "The craftsmanship, with the meticulous attention to detail. The tiny gears and other devices, placed just so and timed perfectly. The beautiful outer shells, made of different precious metals, and their intricate engraved designs. Hard to imagine that we used to simply tell the time using sun dials, hourglasses, and water clocks. Then mechanical clocks came along...usually massive things. And we've shrank them all the way down to where they fit in your pocket."

She smiled at the thought, before shifting her attention to the library. "Let's head inside." she said softly, stepping over and pushing the narrow door inward. The library was well lit, with numerous glass cased oil lamps scattered around the building. Some mounted to walls, some resting silently on the long tables at the front of the building. Endless rows of dark oak bookshelves lined the outer walls, and stood alone throughout the building. A few citizens were here, examining the book shelves or reading through a tome or two as they stood or sat alone. A librarian sat at a small table to the right, next to a stack of books and what appeared to be a set of sorting cards and a clipboard. As the trio approached, they would notice the clipboard featured various names as well as book titles. Seemingly people who had checked out books and had yet to return them. Those whom had returned them had their names scratched through in pen.

"Excuse me, ma'am." said Rebecca, as she stepped up to the table. The librarian, an elderly woman with shoulder length gray hair and a pair of reading glasses resting on her nose, glanced up and smiled. Rebecca continued after smiling herself. "My name is Witlocke. These two here are my associates. We're with the Church, and we need access to your private collection. Its regarding one rather specific tome that was acquired by the constabulary after an incident a few years ago."

The librarian nodded, removing her glasses and setting them beside her on the table. "Ah yes, the grimoire. Belonged to a necromancer by the name of Tarja Devonshire. One of the dreaded Devonshire Twins. You're not the first to ask about it." she said, as she slowly and carefully stood. "Others have come along. Locals who wanted to see what the vile woman had scribbled in that book of hers. Those are the ones that we don't let near it. We do get more wealthy patrons who want to peruse it as well. See how the Twins thought, and what disturbingly morbid concepts and ideas they came up with. They've offered large amounts of coin for access to it. We do need the money, since it costs a considerable amount to keep this place open, so we can't just turn all of them away. Still, we do try to be careful about who we let in to look at it."

As she moved around the table, she held up a finger towards the trio. "We had a young man fraudulently claim he was a cleric from the mainland, whom spent considerable time studying the tome. Last I heard, he had been arrested and is still over at the constabulary. No one ever left the building with it, I can guarantee you that at least. And I do check in often on those that we let in to read it." she added, eventually standing near Rajko. A moment later, she motioned for them to follow. "This way. Its in the back."

Rebecca glanced to the others before shrugging. She wasn't going to argue with the woman over letting people see the book. There wasn't much of a point to it, sinc people already saw it. If any of them intended to do something terrible with the knowledge, they were probably long gone from here now. She followed after the old librarian, slowly moving through the library. Passing between bookshelves and by other locals (whom pleasantries were quietly exchanged with), they moved almost all the way into the very back of the library.

Eventually, they arrived at a solid steel door. Three locks were hanging from latches on the door, all locked via key. "The constables were kind enough to have a door installed for the collection, just in case someone tried to break in to steal it." she said, motioning to the locks. And one by one, she began to open each lock. Carefully removing them untill all were gone. Then, the door was pulled open with a metalic creak.

A few small bookshelves sat inside the room, lined with books of various styles and types. One shelf was marked 'fragile', another 'historical records', and yet another was marked 'dangerous'.

And before the group could enter the narrow dimly lit room, all three of them felt a sense of unease settle in. Rebecca, however, was the only one to feel the true evil of the grimoire of Tarja Devonshire. She frowned almost immediately. The tome needed to be destroyed, as soon as possible.

"Ma'am, if you would be kind enough to point out the tome. I'll take it from here." she said, stepping into the room quickly. The elderly librarian glanced back, a bit surprised by Rebecca's suddenness. She then pointed to a black, leatherbound book at the far end of the shelf marked 'dangerous'. Rebecca spotted it, and quickly marched over. Her hand quickly swiped the book from the shelf.

"Ma'am, I thank you for holding onto this book and making sure no one tried to steal it. I'll be sure to have the Church send you compensation for any money you may lose from our confiscation of the grimoire." she soon said, looking to the librarian. "This book is far too dangerous to continue existing in this realm. It is a danger to you, the rest of Grimsby, and Grimtham Isle as a whole. I shall destroy it using divine magics, but I need an open area to do so. Do you happen to have a rear door to the building? Maybe a sort of backyard or an alley? Or even a door leading to the roof?"

The librarian nodded, motioning back out of the room. "I'll lead you up to the roof. You should mind the stairs on the way up, though, as they're a bit narrow." she said, slowly walking back back out. Leading the trio As they moved back towards the front of the library.


Royland lead the way down into the narrow tunnels running beneath the guard tower. And just as they had years prior, cobwebs marked several areas of the tunnels. It was also surprisingly damp, likely due to recent rainfall. Puddles marked the floor in some spots, and drops of water splashed here and there. Creating echos as they impacted the stone beneath.

The trio didn't need to actively search for the grimoire. All three could feel it. An ominous presence in the tunnels ahead. They could also feel something else. Moving to and fro between the rooms and tunnels. Perhaps a zombie? One may have fell through the trap door and wandered around down here.

No... no, this wasn't a zombie. It was something else. Something dark. Hateful. Evil.

Cassandra quietly drew her sword back out, glancing behind her to Xiaòzhou. "You feel that too, right?" she whispered quietly. She had never felt an aura like this. It certainly didn't feel human, or demon.

Royland knew what it was, however. As did Xiaòzhou, though he likely knew it by a different name.

A specter. Rayne Devonshire's specter.


The pair of vampires were surprised at Sebastian's accusing tone, the pair looking between one another briefly as he spoke. The man went to speak again, but stopped when Sebastian himself spoke once more.

"...No actually, I apologize; that was rude. You all have just found me at a poor time," he said, finally willing himself to approach the inn and the mysterious strangers.

"My name is Sebastian," he said. "I'm here on church business, and I'd rather not explain what that means."

"No worries, friend." responded the leather-clad male vampire. "Church business? You've no need to explain. We know all too well what that usually means."

The vampire shifted his stance, his hand resting on the pomel of the sword on his hip. Thin. Likely a war rapier. His other hand motiones to the side. "And if you were hunting vampires, we would probably be trying to kill one another right now. So that answers an unspoken question." he said, soon smiling. He then motioned his hand towards his chest, as he gave Sebastian a rather theatrical bow. "Kirill Maksimov. Duelist." he said afterwards. "And yes... that kind of duelist. Though my losses far outnumber my victories."

As he straightened up, his hand moved to point at the more colorfully clothed vampiress. "And this is the lovely, and talented, firespitter known as Vlada Shepovalova." he stated, which caused the woman to give Sebastian a theatrical bow as well.

She soon spoke, her accent also rather thick but far smoother than Kirill's. "We're part of a travelling carnival, travelling to Peltragow after being forced to run away from the frontlines to the east. We decided to stop here to rest with our group's leader, while we wait for the others to arrive." she said, as she moved over to the horse's side to dig through one of its saddlebags.


Claire would soon find herself seated in the booth across from Lucas Konstantinov. But she knew she wasn't alone. There were two other individuals in the room, clad in civilian clothes. One close to the door, sitting at a table alone. Half reading a newspaper and half eyeballing her. The other was behind her in another booth, facing away and drinking what appeared to be a cocktail of blood and some alcoholic substance. A literal 'Bloody Mary' of sorts.

As if they could stop her if she wanted to do something, but she wasn't here to kill anyone. She just wanted information.

"So! What brings you out here to Grimtham, Enforcer?" asked Lucas, interlocking his fingers as he leaned forward onto the table. His eyes peering over his hands, locked onto her face. A smile was barely noticable behind his hands and arms.

Claire sighed. "I don't have to tell you that, Lucas. I'm fairly sure you know that, even if you are from an exiled house." she responded as she sat back in her seat. Her head rested against the headboard, her eyes now peering down her nose at the pureblood across from her. "But if you really need to know that badly, I'm here as a favor."

"A favor, hmm?" responded Lucas, chasing it with a faint chuckle. "And for who? Let me venture a guess... Undite, right?"

Claire's facial expression didn't change, and her eyes never wavered. "Yes. Undite." she answered. He had to have had some of his men follow them. Likely from the moment they arrived on the island. They were near him, so he had to make double sure he wasn't being hunted. It was a trait only found in Lucas Konstantinov, as his brothers didn't share his bouts of paranoia.

He grinned. "Something about demons and artifacts. Also a bloodbath up at the mill in Tresomin. That must have been fun. I even heard you got shot!" he soon said.

"Yes, in the shoulder." she responded, still unmoved. "Is there a point, Lucas? I'm failing to see it."

Lucas straightened up, letting his arms rest flat on the table. "The point? There isn't one. I'm just being nosey, that's all!" he said, smirking afterwards.

"Mhm." breathed Claire. She then spoke a bit more clearly. "And why are you here on Grimtham, Lucas? The Konstantinovs moving in on the late Duke's playground?"

Lucas's smirk faded slightly. "No. If you recall, we Konstantinovs are nomads. We don't settle down, we travel." he responded, letting his hands lightly slide around the table. "And I'm more partial to civilization. Not wilderness and isolated towns."

"...Right." she said in response. Eventually she tilted her head. "Well, maybe you could answer a question for me."

Lucas smirked yet again. "Ah-ah, I know what you're about to ask." pointing a finger from the table up towards her.

"Then tell me." was her response.

He breathed a sigh, before pulling his hands back and letting them rest in his lap. "You're about to ask if I know anything about any vampires supposedly working on the side of the Icons. Out to upset the balance of things with the Great Houses." he soon said. Afterwards, he reached up into his off white colored coat. From it, he drew a cigarette which he slipped into his mouth and promptly lit with a match.

Claire's eyes moved to the cigarette, then back to Lucas's own eyes. "And?" she said. She knew the answer. It was the same one the Konstantinovs always gave when pressed about issues regarding the Great Houses.

"No, and why would we care? Why would I care? We Konstantinovs have more important things to worry about. Like trying to figure out what places are safe during this mess of a war. And I have a carnival to manage. People still seem to like them, even these days. Takes their minds off the war, and keeps us busy." he said. He took a drag off the cigarette, then exhaled the smoke through his nostrils. "And you may be thinking: Maybe the vamps doing this belong to House Konstantinov."

Claire continued to stare at Lucas, and he took notice. The hard gaze told him her response, and forced him to smile. "I can assure you, they're not. Even if we are a rather loosely bound house, we left our mercenary lives behind us. At least, most of us did. Those that didn't are no longer part of our house."

Claire's stare continued, But eventually, she looked down to the table. "And if I find out House Konstantinov members are involved, I'm coming to see you. Or I'll pay a visit to your brother Nicolas."

Lucas chuckled audibly then. "Have fun with that, he's fighting our former countrymen in the Atracan Highlands." he said, before exhaling another puff of smoke. "As for me, I'll be in Peltragow."

He then leaned forwards, pointing a finger towards Claire as he rested his elbows on the table once more. "If you're smart...and I know you are, dear Enforcer...you'll see that we Konstantinovs have nothing to gain from changing the status quo. I honestly like things as they are, because I don't have to deal with stuffy vampire politics. You should look to the others. Who stands to gain the most...or lose the most."

Claire's eyes traveled back up to Lucas's, and soon she went to stand. "Stop following us, Lucas. Only warning." she said, as she straightened up next to the booth's table.

Lucas laughed. "Or what, you'll stake me?" he said, grinning. "You gave your stake to the Raven."

Claire looked to Lucas one last time, and a grin of her own appeared on her face. "No. I'll have Cassandra kill you."

The grin vanished from Lucas's face. And with that, Claire took her leave from the Purple Rose.

 

[joshuadim]

The inn that was their stop in Grimsby was quaint and relatively simple in terms of both outward appearance and its interior accommodations, which for Azathor was more than enough for a night's rest. He wasn't particularly picky, especially after having spent years fighting a guerilla war in the Abyss where beds were often simple mats on the floors of whatever outcropping he and his soldiers camped at. They had to make do with little, and so Azathor had learned to appreciate even the simplest of things like running water which was an achievement of its own in the mortal realm. He turned one of the sinks on and off a few times to marvel at it like a child, watching water run off the porcelain and into pipes below, before his attention was also caught to Jayden, who was also looking about to his surroundings with curiosity.

It was not too far fetched that the lad had never left his hometown, and thus had never seen other places outside of his community. Azathor finished tinkering with the sink and passed by Jayden: "Running water is a great achievement." he mused aloud to the young man before heading outside again. He wasn't tired enough yet to turn in for the night and instead decided he wanted to stare at the stars in the sky. He did notice however as he walked towards the door that by the reception a vampire spoke to the lady there. Their aura stood out like a sore thumb to him. This got him to raise an eyebrow as to their presence here, and when he exited the inn to the front he noticed Sebastian was talking to two individuals, whom were also vampires.

Three vampires? What gives? he thought to himself as he leaned next to one of the wooden pillars of the building outside and listened to the trio converse. He only offered a half-hearted finger salute if any of them acknowledged his presence, but remained observant in their background just in case.

 

[K0mori]

Sebastian didn't react to the vampires despite their theatrics, although he certainly relaxed a bit once they had introduced themselves and shed a bit of light on what they were doing in town. Moreover, he noticed Azathor had stepped out of the hotel and was silently keeping watch on the situation.

Toll, I'm resting easier now that the demon prince is here, he thought bitterly. Maybe I should join this traveling act since I'm already a clown.

He suddenly chuckled at his own joke, shaking his head and taking out a cigarette without explaining what was so funny. "So you're saying there's more of you on the way," he said as he lit a cigarette. His smile disappeared as quickly as it appeared as something struck him oddly. "Where do you all get your blood from?" he asked, after a moment. The question wasn't meant to be accusatory, and came off as genuinely curious. He stood there, having forgotten about the match until it had burned for too long and singed his thumb. He dropped it with a grunt and ground it out with his boot.

 

[Damian0358]

As the three of them traveled through the tunnels, unkempt for so long, Xiaòzhou could sense something, the malice ever-present through this space. He felt little bits of this back at the Bristol Estate, but here it was as if concentrate; but while those cut short there felt more akin to standard yuān guǐ, wishing for proper justice... the spirit here wanted to go beyond it. A lì guǐ (厲鬼), a vengeful spirit...

The purity of its ill intent was palpable, overwhelming in some ways... but the aura of the grimoire felt akin to it. It was clear - to get to the grimoire, they would need to get past... whoever this is. Given Cassandra's presence during the affairs of last, she might call out their name. He merely responded to Cassandra with a nod, as he reached for his staff, and considered what magicks to use.

 

[Breadman]

Royland halted his step and looked around. The flaming fist illuminated the dark corridors as he turned and he looked for their quarry. The tome was nearby and so was something else. Another vile creature.

You feel that too, right?

"Aye." The wraith almost spat out. The pieces started falling into place. The zombies should have been gone years ago, but they remained to wander and harass the local population. Something was keeping them from their rest and it became clear what it was. From its form a hateful aura could be felt. That hate would only be rivaled by Royland's own for it. "I can make a guess as to whom is blocking our path." He turned his head to Cassandra. "Either way, we should proceed with caution and eliminate it with extreme prejudice when we find the wretch."

 

[Infab]

"Either way, we should proceed with caution and eliminate it with extreme prejudice when we find the wretch."

Cassandra eyed Royland for but a moment, before shifting her gaze in the direction of the grimoire's aura. An idea quickly popped into her head, as if shoved there by someone else. She then looked back to Royland, a rather serious expression on her face. Her eyes filled with determination.

"I'll distract Rayne. You get to that grimoire and destroy it as quickly as possible. We can deal with her properly afterwards." she said, "...She likely wants me dead. After all, I was the one that brought her and her sister here only to die. So she'll want to focus her full attention on me."

She then smiled. "I can see in the dark too, and know these tunnels. I'll be fine." she added, before pushing past Royland.

As she continued on down the tunnel, she found it branched off to in three directions. Left, forward, and right. She opted to take the right tunnel, leading away from the grimoire's resting place and deeper into the depths. And as she disappeared from view, Royland and Xiaòzhou began to hear... singing?

"...Wandering a waking dream while reaching for the light.
As the day falls over into night.
Centuries like flowing streams as years go rushing by.
Waiting in the dark for afterlife..."

It was Cassandra's voice, likely to draw attention to herself. And it seemed to work, as Rayne's spectral aura began to move slowly in the direction of Cassandra's singing. Now was their chance to move. The faster the grimoire was destroyed, the faster they could put this vengeful specter to rest.

"So you're saying there's more of you on the way," he said as he lit a cigarette. His smile disappeared as quickly as it appeared as something struck him oddly. "Where do you all get your blood from?" he asked, after a moment.

"Yes. I don't think they're too far behind, really." responded Kirill, "We're already a bit nomadic, so it doesn't take very long for us to pack up and move."

As Sebastian posed his second question, Vlada spoke up with a chuckle. "It varies. Farm animals, wild animals, volunteers that offer up their blood out of sympathy or thanks." she replied, "It's most often farm animals, though. Cows, sheep, and so on."

Kirill spoke afterwards. "Yes, we vampires don't have to feed on humans. Though, the ones that do are the ones you hear the most about."

Soon enough, the other vampire had emerged from the inn. Pushing past Azathor with a brief "Excuse me.", the apparently female vampire was dressed quite similar to Kirill. Though a revolver sat on her hip instead of a sword. Her dark brown hair was tied into a bun, resting beneath her wide brimmed hat, and she leered with narrowed red eyes at Sebastian and Kirill.

"Good evening, sir." she soon said politely, stepping up next to Kirill and looking In Sebastian's direction. This vampire lacked the Tsavanian accent of the other two. Instead, her's seemed to be of quite a different origin. Eshaxian, or at least from one of regions of the Empire to the south.

The woman smiled slightly, before looking to Kirill. "The woman at the front desk said that there are two rooms available for tomorrow. We can use one, while Lucas uses the other." she said softly, to which Kirill simply nodded.

She then looked back to Sebastian, and motioned a hand simply to her chest. "Zehra Yazar. A pleasure to meet you, sir." she soon spoke, giving him another smile.

Her attention, as well as the attention of the other two vampires, were soon drawn to a new voice coming up from behind Sebastian. Well, new to them. The voice belonged to Claire, whom soon stepped up next to Sebastian as she spoke. "Ah, more Konstantinovs. Evening." she said, eyes darting between the three. "I figured you lot would be camped somewhere outside of town in a caravan."

Kirill shook his head. "As we told the young man here, Enforcer, the rest of our troupe are a short ways east. We rode ahead with Master Lucas, and waiting here for the rest to arrive." he responded, his tone a bit less upbeat than before when he had been talking to Sebastian. "We decided to stay at an inn."

 

[Infab]

Back in the Abyss...

Keggoth's Palace

In all her days as a demon in the Abyss, Xager had never set foot in the palace of Keggoth until now. But there was a commonality among all the palaces in the Abyss. Each and everyone had palace guards. Demons, usually of the elite variety and equipped with more elaborate golden weapons and armor than the rest of the demonic forces of a region. Since Keggoth saw them all the time, she had them fitted with the best looking armor and weapons that she could get her hands on. Looking at them more as pieces to show off if anyone visited her domain.

Another commonality is that there were often dozens and dozens of palace guards placed around the palace. Strategic locations, protecting the throne room as well as other important areas like the entrance, the numerous staircases leading upwards into the tower, an Icon's bedroom, and so on. Its just a fact of the Abyss. Tariun would have several once the war was over, defending her own palace, which Xager would hand-pick from among their best troops.

What bothered Xager right now was that there weren't any palace guards here inside Keggoth's palace.

She looked about, along with her wrath demon followers as they emerged inside the central entrance chamber of the palace. Almost all of them bearing a confused expression. Xager's expression hadn't changed from its typical serious one, but inside she was just as confused. "This is supposed to be the most well defended structure in this city, besides the Hoarding Towers... yet I fail to sense even a single soul." she soon said.

"Something's very wrong here." responded Talger, "Think its a trap?"

Xager looked upwards, and noticed a faint pair of auras up towards the top of the towering palace. The throne room. "Well, we're about to find out. Be on your guard." she soon said, motioning upwards before proceeding towards the main staircase before them. The others hesitated for a moment, looking about one last time, before rushing after the lieutenant.

The polished stone staircases twisted and turned, winding around and up through the tower's numerous floors. And with every floor, the worry grew. There were no guards here at all. No traces of a struggle. Nothing left behind. All the rooms had seemingly been cleared out as well. It was almost as if the building had been completely abandoned. What the hell had Knasus been up to while Keggoth was gone? What was he planning?

And as they arrived on the floor that featured the throne room, the pair of auras that Xager had sense had suddenly shifted to only one. Did one of them just die? No... No, something else had happened. The other aura had grown...brighter. More powerful. And steadily increasing.

Xager motioned to those following her, forcing them to stay put at the stairs. She didn't want them harmed in the event that this got ugly. And soon, she found herself charging through the long hallway leading towards the throne room, swords drawn. Armored boots clacking against more polished stone. And ahead of her, the aura still increasing in luminosity.

As she reached the throne room doors a few moments later, she delivered a brutal kick. Sending the pair of tall wood and metal doors swinging open with surprising force.

And standing in the middle of the throne room, with another demon lying dead at his feet, was Knasus. The demon was gently shivering for the moment, his hands clenched tightly into fists as he gazed down at the corpse of what appeared to be a lieutenant of Envy. As Xager glanced to the body, she soon noticed which Lieutenant it was. Kyrend, the lieutenant from Envy whom had been missing for some time. And now a sword was jutting from his body, the long sharp blade erupting from the demon's back.

"Knasus, what have you done?" she called out, her voice echoing through the bare, almost cavernous throne room.

"What was needed!" spat Knasus, his attention quickly shifting to Xager as she moved into the throne room towards him. Weapons readied. "And now, I intend to end this entire ordeal once and for all!" he soon added.

The aura emanating from Knasus suddenly increased in brightness, the power within his body multiplying almost tenfold. Xager's eyes widened briefly, but she maintained her battle stance. Had he absorbed the power that Kyrend possessed after his death? If she was fast enough, she could likely kill him before he grew too powerful for her to handle. And so, she made a decision in the moment. Attack.

Xager darted across the room, her immense speed allowing her to close the distance quickly with her swords ready to slice. But suddenly Knasus vanished from view. Or had he? His aura could still be felt, but it had jumped above her. He was now flying, yet again, and rocketing towards the roof of the palace. Her head shot upwards, eyes following after the greed demon as he bolted for the the stone above.

She flipped one of her swords around, gripping it like a spear, before hurling it in his direction. And if he hadn't drifted slightly to the side, the sword would have impaled him. Instead, it darted by and found itself embedding its blade into the stone. As Knasus arrived at the roof above, he placed a palm flat against the stone.

What followed was a rather loud, massive explosion, as the stone was literally blown outwards by a sudden pulse of magic from Knasus's hand. Through the cloud of debris and smoke Knasus disappeared, leaving a slightly stunned Xager alone in the throne room.

​

The Living Collections

This was far more resistance than expected.

Annen's arms and hands moved to and fro, forming graceful movements and patterns as she continued to carve a way through the greed demons that protected the large entrance to the underground portion of Erebos. Through the gate, and tunnel behind it, the Living Collections awaited. But something had caught her eye long before she and the wraiths following her had arrived here.

Gold. Jewels. Other precious items. Bits and pieces left here and there along the roads, leading away from the Hoarding Towers and Keggoth's Palace. Towards the tunnels leading into the Living Collections, as if everything had been moved there. Knasus, you devious little boy. What are you planning? The question made frequent streaks through Annen's brain as she continued forth.

Soon, the massive steel gate was in sight. And two hulking wrath demons were guarding it. Loyal likely to Trzichnar, the lieutenant from Wrath loyal to the current regime of Taranoch. So he was here, helping Knasus, eh? Maybe he was down in the tunnels, or the Living Collection itself?

Annen glanced back to the Wraiths following her, whom had been dispatching several demons themselves as they made their way here. "Remain here for a moment. I'll handle those two." she said, before returning her attention back to the guards.

She emerged from where they were standing, next to a warehouse used to store the vehicles that carried captured specimens for the Collections, and strolled out into the middle of the open rail area. Which really no longer served a purpose, considering the rail lines had been cut long ago. She stepped over the tracks, carefully making her way over to where the demons were standing.

Both took notice of her, almost immediately, and readied their massive warhammers to use against her as she neared. She simply smiled at the sight, and stopped a few dozen yards away. She raised a hand to both, and with a rather wicked grin, simply snapped her fingers.

Both suddenly clutched their chests, dropping their weapons to the cobblestone beneath them. And then, Annen raised her left hand upwards, palm facing the sky. The left wrath demon soon began to slowly lift from the ground, maybe a foot or two. Blood began to seep from his nose and mouth, and soon his eyes and ears as well. Annen tilted her head as she watched him, before closing her left hand slowly. Then, she quickly opened it, fingers flying open and outstretched.

The wraith demon's head exploded. Quite violently, blood and brain matter spattering everywhere around him.

She then looked to the other demon on the right, and pointed her palm towards him. She then made a claw motion with her fingers, before pulling her arm back as if she were opening a door. Slowly at first, before quickly jerking it back. Her hand stopping next to her head.

What came next was both gory and horrifying, but it seemed to be what Annen wanted. A show of her own powers. All of the demon's veins and arteries were suddenly ripped from his body, the force shredding his form like sheers through paper. His heart followed as well, bursting from his chest to follow the rest of his cardiovascular system. As what was left of his body collapsed, everything Annen wanted remained intact. Another wicked grin appeared on her face, before she flicked her hand to the side. The mass of veins, arteries, and other cardiovascular parts went sailing through the air, spattering in a red pile against the wall of a nearby warehouse.

"Let's continue, shall we? We have a Seraph to release." she soon said aloud, looking back to the Wraiths whom had been watching.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko followed the Saint and the huntress inside the constabulary. The insides were not at all that impressive to the man, he's seen better stations in his hay day as a hunter but the beige coloration and dark wooden furniture did add an inviting element to it. A semblance of professionalism that these people were adept at their work. Approaching the front desk, Rajko tied his hands behind his back. Awaiting with great patience this Lieutenant Hawthorne.

Then the reception lummox decided to holler for his superior's name with thunderous force. Rajko recoiled a step or two, caught off guard by the high pitch. He rubbed the entrance to his ear with the bottom of his palm. "Shite, man. Must ye yell so loudly." Rajko commented, briefly dropping the veneer of professionalism and refined Atracan accent. The stubble of pain passed without bother, but the inquisitor is now sure that he won't be surprised by loud noises again whilst here. "Since these people so like to yell"

As the racing constable approached them, Rajko could not help but bite down the insides of his cheeks. Something did not bode well with the rushed gait, the pale worry in his face. It exacerbated the twig of doubt into a tree. A tree that would grew large then catch fire as Lieutenant Hawthorne continued speaking. Rajko took on a face that could be best described as abject horror at the constables' boneheaded decision to drop off a powerful, unholy, necromantic tome... In a library.

"Of all the places you could've put it in, you decide a libr—" Rajko's fit of complaining had been cut short by Camille's hissing tongue; swifter than a rapier. It was better this way, he shut up and grumbled obscenities. Rebecca, collected as ever, asked them if they'll proceed. "No objections."

The trip to Brooks Street and the subsequent library therein did not take long, people were still out and about, and there was even a little watchmaker's store. Rebecca praised the advancement of the mechanical clock. The man shuffled in his coat. "My father... He was a cobbler, fixing the shoes of people who deemed him beneath notice. He had an interest in watches like these, little things in all honesty. As a child, I never understood their importance. Never understood why he liked them. Until... Well, cutting a sad tale short. Gone." A glossy sheen slicked down Rajko's eyes, prompting him to rub them clean with his fingers.

They arrived at the entrance to the library, Rajko steeled himself.

An imperceptible wave of evil struck true in Rajko's heart, likely emanating from the tome itself. It had absorbed the evilness of the twins and now became a receptacle that steamed its presence to all who knows it. The librarian, an old woman, greeted them and Rebecca once again explained the situation. The concept of letting locals see it had been a peculiar thing to Rajko, if he were custodian of the book then keeping away under lock and key permanently would've been better. But it is futile to speculate.

There had been something amiss about this place. Rajko couldn't rightfully explain, as if something troubled his senses. He kept track of the librarian with his eyes only, even shifting a foot back so as to not be in line with her.

Then as they began walking towards the front of the library in order to access the roof, Rajko kept waiting for Fate to slap them across the face. Waiting. Waiting.

 

[Breadman]

As much as he wanted to destroy the specter as soon as possible, Royland agreed to go with Cassandra's plan. As soon as he heard the singing, he turned towards its direction. But so did the specter. He didn't want to waste their chance. The knight bolted down the corridor where he could feel the cursed tome. Anything standing in his way was going to get hacked to pieces.
---
The wraiths rushed after Annen's carnage. Although she cut scores of greed demons down, enough of them swarmed after the group to keep them occupied. Not that it was surprising. They were in a vault where untold treasure was being kept, but their prize makes all that glitters seem like ash and dust if what they have been told was true. So the ranks of enemy demons had to be thinned.

Lozon cut through each of the guards that stood against him. The old demon dreamt for such a fight for ages and happily engaged in his bloodlust. Many demons of wrath secretly coveted a chance to breach and plunder the capitals of the other domains and here he was, standing kneed deep in among the corpses as they piled up. He felt like he haven't felt in centuries. He felt young. He felt alive. Another swipe by his sword left a spray of blood fall on him like a shower.

"Enjoying yourself old man?" Connor broke his tranquil state.

"I would be lying if I said I didn't look forward to this." Lozon readied to parry another strike.

"Good! Get all the joy out of this you can. We still have our deal." Connor let out a laugh as he grabbed one of the guards by the throat and squeezed until he heard a pop. In life he was a massive man and he continues to be one in death. The hatched he swung around was only an extension of his arm. He tossed the corpse aside and set his sight on the next victim. That's where the extension came in. The blade dug itself deep within the demon's flesh it might as well have bisected the hellspawn. "Your pretty armors aren't worth the shit pay you give for them you poncy wankers!" He noticed movement with his peripheral vision and moved to intercept it, only to have the guard's head explode and shower his face with bits of skull, brain and gore. "I had him!"

"You're welcome!" Constantine answered as he reloaded his riffle. He cursed using the last bullet in it to save Connor, but better than having one less heavy hitter around. Another guard ran up to him and forced him to use the repeater to block the sword swings. "Motherfu-" The blade somehow cut through it, leaving two worthless pieces in his hands. The demon cackled at his martial prowess as it parried the cowboy tossing one of the ends at it. It didn't notice that the wraith had pulled his revolver in time. Only when 3 bullets went inside his guts did it make the connection. "Typical." Constantine spat out as he stomped on the demon's neck to finish it off. "We're falling behind! Come on!" He shouted to the others. Killing this bunch was important for the mission, he was sure, but they needed to get further inside. Didn't stop him from taking more shots at the greed demons as they ran. He needed the target practice.

They ran after the Annen, making sure to keep the pressure on the guards when they could. They passed the hallways and tunnels filled with gold and jewels. Riches that would make the Mortal realm treasuries look like a pauper's purses.

"Where the blazes did Tiloc and Boris go off to now?" The wraith shouted as he noticed the severe lack of manic laughter and Tsavarian cursing. He halted for a second and turned around when he heard a roar from behind him. At least he wasn't left wondering. Greed demons were being tossed aside or ripped apart as a huge bear battered its way through them. Their numbers should be enough to overwhelm Boris. Even in his werebear form he wasn't invincible. But anyone looking at the rampaging beast would notice sprays of blood blocking and parrying the blades and maces of the demons. Tiloc was using the blood all around them for her spell as she rode on top of Boris, laughing the entire time.

"Vulture!" She shouted as she saw him "This is the most fun I've had in ages! Come ride the bear with me!"

"Quit falling behind and get your asses here god's damnit!"

"Don't be killjoy, Constantine!" The bear spoke as it came closer "Its hard work, so lets enjoy ourselves, da?" It moved faster to gain up on the rest all the while letting out something resembling a laugh. He had reason to at least. The remaining guards retreated to regroup. The pause would give them enough breathing room to find the vault. At least that's what they hoped.

Remain here for a moment. I'll handle those two.

"Of course, Lady Annen." Lozon answered as he turned towards the rest. Constantine hadn't noticed that they had halted their advance. What followed was a brutal display of power as Annen turned two powerful wrath demons into nothing with grace.

Let's continue, shall we? We have a Seraph to release.

They were in awe, unable to speak. Hardened veterans that have spend a combined untold ages in the Abyss and this stunned them. Except for Tiloc.

"Amazing!" She cheered as she looked on the display. "I had mastered the ability to stop hearts with some concentration. Even managed to explode a few. But I never learned how to properly channel their blood to the brain for an eruption" She examined one of the remains "And the use of the veins as weapons against them is a stroke of genius! There is so much for me to learn still. Haha!" She was practically giddy "Oh and the grace and poise as you performed those abilities. Is it part of the effectiveness? Moving the body draws more power from the blood...so such movement must make powerful spells." She rationalized as the smile on her face grew wider "Oh I must learn so much more!"

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou's eyes widened as she spoke the specter's name - Rayne Devonshire. To think that her spirit continued to cause havoc in the capacity it has even so long since. The hermit merely nodded as Cassandra explained her plan.

Xiaòzhou concentrated his mind on the malicious aura of the grimoire, practically closing his eyes to further hone in on its presence. Royland rushed forward first, and the oni followed suit, trying to concentrate wholly on the grimoire, putting aside the auras of the wraith, the vampire and the specter, rushing into whichever tunnel would take him there. And if anyone faced his way, he was ready to fight back.

 

[Infab]

"Amazing!" She cheered as she looked on the display. "I had mastered the ability to stop hearts with some concentration. Even managed to explode a few. But I never learned how to properly channel their blood to the brain for an eruption" She examined one of the remains "And the use of the veins as weapons against them is a stroke of genius! There is so much for me to learn still. Haha!" She was practically giddy "Oh and the grace and poise as you performed those abilities. Is it part of the effectiveness? Moving the body draws more power from the blood...so such movement must make powerful spells." She rationalized as the smile on her face grew wider "Oh I must learn so much more!"

Annen smirked, as she strolled over to the large steel gates. Listening to Tiloc as she gushed about Annen's attacks on the now deceased wrath demon guards. She soon raised her hand up at the gate, her fingers forming a claw shape. Fingers stretched out wide. Soon, blood from the dead demons scattered about began to move quite quickly towards the gate, flowing up its face and slipping into the thin crack between the two doors that made up the gate.

"I've been looking for a new apprentice. I could surely teach you some tricks on my trade, if you're interested. Though, you'd have to be transformed into a demon." she said, glancing back to Tiloc. "But that's something you would have to ask Tariun to do. I lack the power to perform such an act at the moment."

As she spoke, they noticed Annen's hand began to shift. Slowly turning counter-clockwise, until it had reached a nine o'clock position. Then, her hand drifted slowly to the right. The blood between the gates apparently had semi-hardened, and was now beginning to force the gate open. The right door slid in its wide track, making a metal grinding noise as it was forced open.

"My graceful movements help with my focus. Magic requires a little fluidity and flexibility, in order to bring out its full potential. Especially when it comes to blood, as well as water and other liquids." she spoke. "Human mages stand about, reciting words of power or reading from grimoires, or use a staff to focus their magic. That's all well and good, but I feel it leaves a bit to be desired. As a demon, angel, saint, and so on, you can move. You can dance. Be as graceful as you'd like. And your movements can help you focus as you cast."

She then glanced back to Tiloc again, as the door opened more and more. "You're also not stuck in one spot, waiting to get hit by something either. And its fun." she added with a smile. "Though, as powerful as I am, I couldn't take on someone far more powerful than I. Say, an Icon or Taranoch. Or his advisor, Mazgith. She's a powerful Abyssal Mage, and could easily turn my own magic against me."

She held up her left hand and snapped her fingers. "Just like that, she could pop an artery in my neck or head. Or tear my heart in two. Blood magic is powerful, and if you're the more experienced one in a fight, you're usually the one that comes out the victor."

Eventually, the door was open wide enough to walk through. She let her right hand drop to her side, and the blood that had been used like a tool simply dropped to the ground. Creating a massive red puddle for them to walk through. Annen gave it a single nod, before motioning towards the hole in the gate.

"Let us proceed. And keep a level head. I'm sure we'll encounter a number of things down there. More guards, more wrath demons...potentially a number of abominations, as its the Living Collections. But you'll start to sense the Seraph as we venture inward. You can't miss it. A being of heavenly fury, power second only to the Archangels." she soon spoke, before walking towards the gate.

The Wraiths followed quickly, steeling themselves for what was below. And for what was to come once the Seraph had been released from her enchanted iron tomb.

- - - - - - - - - -
​

The tunnels, as the group proceeded through the gate and downward into the Living Collections beneath Erebos, were found to be filled to the brim with endless treasures. Gold, jewels, priceless artifacts such as paintings, furniture, vases, armors, weapons, carriages, statues... all of Keggoth's treasured items. Why were they here? Of all places?

Annen's eyes darted between the various entrances to the numerous cavernous rooms and halls linked to the main tunnels, eyes meeting masses of valuables. This was far too strange.

Soon, she put her thoughts to words. "...Why is it all here? This stuff should be in the Hoarding Towers and in the Palace." she spoke softly, "Knasus, what in the great Abyss are you planning?"

Once she finished, she looked ahead. She could sense the Seraph already. Really, she had sensed her the moment she had opened the gate. It was hard not to. She stuck out like a sore thumb compared to all the other auras ahead. But so far, they hadn't encountered any guards. Perhaps they were preparing defenses to combat them once they reached the central intersection?

She soon stopped, before moving over near one of the side walls of the dimly lit tunnel. She motioned the Wraiths over, before holding up her hand.

"I'm going to provide a little distraction for us, to make this a bit easier." she soon spoke, as she felt around on her belt with her right hand. Eventually, she gripped a handle in the small of her back, and pulled on it. A blade was drawn, small and sharp. It curved rather viciously, signifying it was meant to draw as much blood as possible.

She flipped the blade around in her hand, before pressing the edge into the palm of her left hand and giving it a swift jerk. Blood flowed quite quickly from the wound, pouring from her hand and dripping onto the floor. She then gave her hand a quick flick, slinging gobs of blood into the dirt before her.

She then put the blade away, before pointing her hand towards the various gobs of blood marking the ground. And oddly, the blood began to bubble...and grow in size. Soon, they were wide enough to be considered full fledged pools of blood.

"And with a bit more magic..." she whispered, closing her hand so that only her index and middle finger were straightened out. Pressed together as she pointed to the group of pools. She flipped her hand over so the inside of her hand was facing up, and shifted her hand so that her fingers slowly pointed up towards the ceiling. Arm moving gently upwards.

And up from the pools rose several dozen demons of varying sizes. Blood Imps, all of them. All of looked as though they were ready to go, teeth bared and claws ready.

"A useful trick to sort of even an uneven fight. Sadly, they're fragile. Blood Ogres are better, but I'd need to drain a body to summon that sort of creature." she said, glancing to the Wraiths. She then looked to her Imps, and motioned towards the auras further down into the tunnel.

"Harass them. Kill who you can, distract who you can't. We need time to work." she spoke. The Imps nodded in agreement, before darting away. Some running on two feet, while others dropped to their hands so they could sprint on all fours.

And once they had disappeared from view, the group began to hear yelling and screaming from further down in the tunnel. Perfect. "Now, let's go. The Seraph's tomb, if I remember correctly, should be in the last tunnel branching off from this one. Right before we reach the main intersection at the end." said Annen, rubbing her left hand before motioning for the Wraiths to follow as she went towards the sounds of action.

 

[Breadman]

Tiloc's smile never faded as Annen gave a short lecture on the nature of blood magic and how it's channeled. She even gave a bow of the head when the Blood queen finished. Constantine in turn eyed up their priest with suspicion.

"Very good to know, oh Lady of blood." She spoke with reverence "Perhaps I would follow your advice and ask to make the plunge into demonhood." The jagged teeth lined in a row behind her lips to make the smile all the more sinister. A glance exchange between the other wraiths revealed that the cowboy was not alone in those suspicions.

Let us proceed. And keep a level head. I'm sure we'll encounter a number of things down there. More guards, more wrath demons...potentially a number of abominations, as its the Living Collections. But you'll start to sense the Seraph as we venture inward. You can't miss it. A being of heavenly fury, power second only to the Archangels.

"We're right behind you, Lady Annen." Lozon turned to the rest "Come. The guards are going to be nipping at our heels any second now." The group followed after their commander. They passed through even more treasures in the tunnels. The hoard that was kept here would keep the a war effort going in perpetuity if it wasn't kept by the demons of greed. But that's why it was here in the first place probably.

"So, Tiloc." Constantine spoke as they slowed to a brisk walk as they made their way through the maze of corridors "You mind telling me what was that back there?"

"What do you mean, Vulture?"

"You gushing like a little girl tasting candy for the first time and letting the lady talk to you like you're some sort of novice at this." She looked at him with a raised eyebrow "You damn well know what I mean. You're no rookie at this and sure as the Abyss aren't humble." He motioned to the jewelry hanging off her ears, neck and wrists "What are you playing at?"

"Hah, Vulture...must everything I do have some hidden motive?" She gave him a slight smile, revealing a tooth. He wasn't amused by her response "My enthusiasm for the Lady's power is true as is my will to learn and my desire to grow in power. The explanation I didn't see a point in interrupting as it was short and would benefit you and the others to know. Our foes have been employing the same tactics after all."

"I'm not buying it." His tone was more annoyed than angry "You're trying to pull something here."

"Vulture, come on now. I told you what I want and the Lady of Blood has shown me the path forward. I cannot hope to manipulate her like you're implying as she would turn me inside out with a flick of a wrist in this form and I truly wish to learn."

"If demonhood is what you desire, then you best be ready to pay the price for it." Lozon called to her "Although your power was never in question as you summoned that wurm at the gates."

"Me and several other blood priests and I still required rest. I can be of great use for the new order if I were to join your ranks and tapped into my true potential. You know this, Old man."

"There is truth to that." Lozon answered with some hesitation. His face locked forward as they approached another room "We've talked enough and our work is far from over."

The group stopped when Annen gave the order. They watched as she took out her blade to draw blood from her palm. Tiloc made sure to memorize the motions for the blood imps ritual. A trick she would practice next when given the chance. Boris and Connor found it annoying that they would depend on a group of imps to keep the enemy distracted, but their task required them close-by. Regardless of opinion, they followed her down to the last entrance they would take. Each of them starting to sense something different as they did. Something not of the Abyss or the Mortal realm. Not of anything they've reckoned with. They felt caution, fright and pangs of fear in the past, but this was different. This was terror. The wrath of the Seraph would shake any demon and they were moving headlong into it.

 

[K0mori]

"A warding kettle?" Neroph repeated, no more certain of the threat than before.

Mariette nodded. "Oui. It is a vessel to contain an immense amount of power- to ward it away, so to speak. But it is already at its limit... Look at how it glows," She spoke in a hushed voice, edging backwards toward Neroph, away from the eerie reddish light that poured out from the singular opening at the top of the stone monolith and reflected off of the ceiling above. A narrow, circular opening into the floor above formed a black void in the center of the crimson glow, like a dark, evil eye, an omen of death.

"The- the top is open," Neroph replied, a bit unnerved. He pointed at the heavy metal hatch that lay hanging from the rear of the obelisk-like structure, which was easier to see when one circled around to the side of the towering device, as he had done. "What does that mean?"

"It means that whatever this kettle was built to contain was dropped into it from above," Mariette explained. "The interior is lined with iron - a physical barrier - but that wouldn't be nearly enough. These runes carved into the stone are tempering the beast inside, and are providing just enough of an arcane barrier to prevent it from erupting like a volcano."

Neroph blinked. He had seen plenty of powerful artifacts in his lifetime. In fact, many of them had once decorated these halls, but never had he seen something so large, dangerous, and yet so mysterious. "What do you mean, 'beast?' What have they done?"

Mariette, to his surprise, flew upwards towards the glow and the opening of the monolith, where she held out her hand. He felt a rare surge of terror in his chest that quickly subsided, as Mariette did not create any more hellfire, nor any type of magic. "...A sacrifice," she replied, cryptically. She glanced back up at the dark hole in the ceiling, and then at the spiral stairs connecting the large, central chamber with the floors above. "I suppose we'll know whose essence is trapped within the kettle if we start climbing."

Neroph nodded as the mages they had brought along began to fill into the chamber behind them. "Sir, the defenders outside have been routed. They're falling back toward Keggoth's palace," one of them reported.

"Good. Come with me," he answered, too preoccupied by the current mystery to consider the significance of the enemy's crumbling defenses. "What about you, witch?"

Mariette smiled grimly. "I'll meet you there, mon ami." She floated upwards, disappearing into the dark tunnel connecting to the upper floor. Neroph blinked again, stunned for a moment at the witch's confidence, or possibly arrogance, in the face of the unknown. He turned to the others gathered around him and clutched his sword, beckoning them to follow with clinched teeth as he dashed toward the stairs.

Their clattering footsteps on the stone stairs raised another alarm from the upper floor, and before he could raise his defenses he felt a gust of wind smash into him, tearing at the skin of his face like a cat o' nine tails and knocking him backwards into his comrades. At the next landing of the stairs, where an entry opened into the next floor, a powerful mage took up position with several heavily-armored guards. Neroph swung his sword and unleashed a phantom slash, as he had done outside the tower to the lesser brutes who guarded it, but the mage easily deflected the invisible strike with a second gust of wind. Then, with a tilt of his staff, a gale of overwhelming power pushed Neroph and the mages off their heels, tumbling backwards and into the outer wall of the stairwell.

Meanwhile, Mariette emerged from the circular opening in the center of the upper chamber's floor, finding herself behind the enemy mage and his guards. They sensed her powerful aura immediately and turned, and she barely had time to lift her own sword before being met with a powerful gust. With his focus divided between two targets, however, the enemy mage could not maintain his strength for long, and Mariette and Neroph began to close from both sides, fighting against the wall of air with their swords out in front, like the bow of a ship splitting through the maelstrom clouds of a storm at sea.

The guards plunged in, aiming to take out the lieutenants while they were preoccupied with the struggle. The first reached Neroph with a mace raised high and a tower shield to protect his body. With a powerful swing, he aimed to turn Neroph's head into a pulp, but the latter allowed himself to be blown back by the wind at the last moment. The guard's mace missed him by a fraction of an inch, but a second swing caught him under the chin and caused him to fall back once more. Two mages grabbed him from behind and kept him upright, preventing them all from tumbling down the stairs, while the third summoned up a bolt of lightning to stun the towering brute. He simply blocked it with his shield, which proved to be enchanted for protection.

Mariette fared little better- the second guard smashed her sword aside with a twirling morning star before grabbing her by the neck. She ignited her body in hellfire to break free, but he had apparently expected this as he was already in the midst of swinging his spiked flail when her feet touched the ground, and with a dizzying crack it met the stump of one of her broken horns and knocked her sideways, whereupon she was caught up in the magical wind and sent skidding across the floor.

"Enghelnat, Okrzhar, let's fight dirty, shall we?" Neroph snarled, naming two of the present mages as he wiped blood from his jawline. The first let fly an explosive vial of shimmering green fluid, which despite her best efforts barely landed beyond the guard on the steps before them. This proved to be the plan, however, as the acrid plume which burst forth was quickly carried along by the air current to engulf the brute, at which point Okrzhar summoned an icy blast which froze much of the acidic cloud to the guard's armor. He paused, mid step in his approach, and examined himself as the surfaces of his armor quickly began to corrode, and let out a cough and a pained grunt.

From the landing, the enemy mage saw what happened and called to him. "Taral! Try not to breathe, I will heal you!" The wind fell in strength further as the brute, apparently named Taral, shook off the pain and panic and set his sights on Neroph once more. But at the same moment, Enghelnat produced another vial of acid and held it out where Taral could see it sloshing about in her hand, and the guard froze in his tracks, uncertain if he should move further away from the mage who was sustaining him. Every second he wasted, the armor on his body continued to degrade. "TARAL! DON'T JUST STAND THERE, YOU HAVE TO FINISH THEM!" the mage urged him.

Taral glanced back, a piece of his helmet crumbling away as he took one last look at the mage, a mixture of gratitude and resentment in his unveiled eyes as he knew that the mage had saved his life only to waste it in the next instant. He lifted his mace for one more thunderous strike, but now it was Neroph advancing and swinging his sword with all the power he could summon. "TOO LATE!" he yelled, and the moment his sword met the head of Taral's mace, the latter exploded into a dozen corroded fragments against the inner wall of the stairwell, leaving the guard stupefied and grasping at air. A moment later, Neroph's sword slammed into the tower shield, leaving a deep gash as Taral fell back onto the steps.

On the floor above, Mariette had taken the opportunity when the winds weakened to stand and take up position against the second guard, jabbing her sword into the chains to kill the weapon's momentum before blasting his shield back with a fireball. He answered back with a shield bash that sent Mariette reeling, but a moment later she was back with several copies of herself as an illusionary decoy. She let out a harsh, accosting scream of bloodlust as her blows came rapidly and from unexpected angles, until the guard's shield had been knocked aside just far enough that with one, powerful slash, Mariette's sword cut upwards through the armor plate on the guard's knee and scorched the flesh inside.

"Valghem!" the guard cried out, causing the enemy mage to look back in horror to see his ally's final moments as Mariette's gauntlet, a blazing meteor, crashed down on his neck with claws extended, spraying his blood across the walls with a sickening sizzle, like lava from a volcanic font. Valghem then turned back to witness Neroph's continued advance while the grand army's mages tore Taral limb from limb, his scarred and acid-scorched body, nearly naked from the degradation of his armor, slowly turning to a butchered display. He lifted his staff, but all at once, both lieutenants were upon him, dragging him to the ground with blades and claws and holding him there within a ring of hellfire from which there was no escape. While Mariette pinned him with his staff pressed like a stockade against his own neck, Neroph placed the tip of his sword between the mage's eyes.

"Valghem, hm?" Neroph said, his smooth voice failing to hide his barely-withheld fury. "What is it that you and Knasus have done with this place? You've turned it into some kind of sacrificial pit... for what end? And where are the treasures that adorned these halls? You certainly didn't dispose of them...?"

Valghem sputtered and coughed, letting go of his staff and giving up resistance so that Mariette would take just enough pressure off to allow him to breathe and answer plainly, "It's... it's in the Living Collections... underground. Knasus killed Trzichnar... placed his essence within a blood crucible... dropped it into the warding kettle..."

"To what end?" Mariette hissed, her breath tinged and warm with the guard's blood. "...A summoning?"

"A reckoning... for your entire rebellion... in one instant."

Mariette grimaced. "I would have thought Knasus more artful than that." She glanced to Neroph, whose eyes relayed a need for elaboration. "The soul of a demon contains far more magic than its owner is capable of wielding, but separate it, use it as fuel, and it multiplies tenfold. The kettle is already at its limit, and Knasus intended to drop another blood crucible into it to compliment the first."

"Then you mean...?" Neroph spoke.

Valghem grinned beneath his blade. "Yes... The warding kettle... It's a bomb."

Mariette and Neroph began to piece together the puzzle. The treasures of the Hoarding Towers had been taken underground, where they would be protected from the cataclysmic explosion Knasus prepared to created by killing Trzichnar and another lieutenant and funneling all the energy of their demonic souls into the kettle. That was why the tower had been so poorly-defended- the bulk of Erebos' best forces were guarding the valuables, while this veritable doomsday device was being prepped in secret. Surely Keggoth had wagered that demons of greed would return to the smoldering ruins of her city to rebuild it, so long as the treasure hoards remained. But why had it been so easy to enter the tower? And what, or who, rather, was meant to be the trigger?

"Tell me," Neroph said, "Who was meant to give their soul for the kettle's destruction? Tell me this and I will let you live and serve beside me."

"Kyrend," Valghem answered, his grin disappearing. "He was with us... waiting for Knasus to return... and then he... he broke the seal on the entryway... I think he must have betrayed us... opened the gates."

Mariette and Neroph glanced at each other and nearly laughed at their good fortune. If Valghem was being honest, then their survival had been down to Kyrend's timely change of heart. He had opened the gates at the moment Mazgas arrived with reinforcements, allowing the grand army to waltz into Erebos with hardly anything to slow its pace. The weak spell which held the doors closed by the time the lieutenants arrived must have been placed by Valghem. Now, Knasus was probably trying to chase down his intended victim in hopes of salvaging his suicidal scheme.

Neroph lifted his blade away from Valghem's neck. "What do you think Knasus will do if he can't catch up to Kyrend?" he asked. Of course, no one in the tower was aware that Kyrend had already been caught and killed.

"The same as he planned from the start. He'll come here and prepare himself for the final plunge. I was to prepare his crucible," Valghem admitted as Mariette released him from the chokehold. "If you two expect to prevent your force's destruction, you'll need to lead him away from this place. Your own souls would make just as potent charges as Kyrend's... in fact, more so."

"Can we destroy the kettle?" Neroph asked.

Mariette shook her head. "Non, but we can discharge it."

Valghem's eyes widened as he searched Mariette's demeanor for a hidden meaning beyond what she was clearly suggesting. "N- No, you couldn't... the crucible of Trzichnar was emptied into the kettle. It is nothing but raw power now, it would shred your body to pieces!"

Mariette nodded. "Oui, if either of us were to carry Trzichnar's essence for long, it would be deadly. The fiber of our being was not stitched with such a feat in mind, but we can test our limits if we share the load and do it quickly. I take half, and mon ami, you take half. And then we obliterate every molecule of Knasus out of existence until we are enervated and collapse, and hopefully, awaken to a blissful victory celebration."

Neroph rubbed his eyes. It sounded like a joke, but he knew that Mariette was deathly serious. He knew because he couldn't think of a better plan himself. But as they weighed the gravity of the situation, Knasus landed on the granite tile outside the Hoarding Towers to find his decoy force had been totally decimated by Mariette's mages, and followed the trail of bodies through the gaping entrance doors. All the while, Kyrend's essence burned at his soul from the inside out, a fire he couldn't hope to control for much longer. But as he made his way toward the central chamber, the air around him crackling with unspent, wild power beyond his own imagination, he knew that he could maintain it long enough to reach the entrance to the kettle, that simple hole in the center of the room where Mariette and Neroph now stood!

 

[Dmaster]

Camille was silent as the librarian and Rebecca chatted about the nature of this tome and how it had been stored here, carefully eyeing the amenities of the room and building alike while she gave an evaluation of their procedure. She was only slightly relieved that they were somewhat exclusive about who was able to access the grimoire, and were she a member of an inquisition she would wish to have a list of every person that had laid eyes on those cursed pages for investigation. Yet the huntress was not so pious to let her hatred for the dark arts guide such an undertaking, and even then she had to admit that there were far greater threats in motion they needed to deal with.

Unlike Rajko, Camille did not sense that anything was amiss with this place or the events that may follow. Rebecca made it seem like a rather simple endeavor: take the tome to the roof and likely completely disintegrate it with her holy powers. As a completely human vampire huntress, she was slightly out of her element when it came with dealing with the exceedingly occult, so she had no barbed words for the library staff or any questions for the saint herself.

Camille traveled behind the others as they made their way up the steps to the roof.